Page 191 of Fierce Storm
“It wasn’t. And the memory of that gave me an epiphany. That’s why I work so hard. Because I never want to be in a situation where I have to work to survive. Or be forced to work in a job I don’t love. And I’ve experienced losing a job I loved before.”
“That makes sense. It’s how my work ethic started too. And now we’re both thriving. We could probably afford to take it easy every once in a while.” He stares at me pointedly before his eyes drop to my foot.
“You’re right. I’m going to enjoy this time off. I’m in a gorgeous house with a stunning view both inside and out. It’s time to live in the moment.”
“Good.”
“Good. Anythingyouwant to say?”
“About what?” Sal fakes a frown and I roll my eyes.
“Living in the moment?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
A laugh bursts out of me as Sal pulls me close again, burying my face in his hard chest, probably so I won’t say anymore. Baby steps for him. He’s definitely been here more than the office, taking care of me, so that’s something. Maybe one day we’ll both learn to go easier on ourselves.
Chapter Fifty-Three
SALVATORE
Keeley’s still sleeping when I wake up, so I move her crutches closer to the bed and quietly close our bedroom door behind me. My lips pull into a smile as I stare at the handle.
Ourbedroom door.
This isourbedroom.
I gave her the option to move back home when she was better, but I’m going to fight hard to ensure that doesn’t happen. It’s only been a few days, and it already feels like a home.
I’ve always loved her in my space, and this is no exception. Actually, it has one major difference. It never felt like my space until Keeley walked into it.
When my agent told me this house had come onto the market, I knew I had to have it, even though I couldn’t figure out why.
Now I know.
It was for Keeley. For us. For our future. And I can’t remember a time where I’ve felt so at home. Even when I lived with Camilla and my kids, as sad as that sounds.
After making a few calls, I’ve just started cooking omelets for breakfast when Keeley calls out from the upstairs landing.
“I’m coming down. Don’t freak out.”
“Wait.” I chuckle under my breath. “I can help.”
“No,” she calls back, her tone curt. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I donotneed to be carried anymore.”
“Your loss.”
I’m anxious while I cook, despite laughing at her sassy independence. The reason she’s in a cast in the first place is because she fell down stairs. I’m not nervous about her being incapable of making it down on her own; I’m worried she’s carrying trauma she hasn’t yet acknowledged.
With a deep breath, I flip the omelet in the pan and smile in relief when I hear Keeley’s crutches clacking my way.
“You made it?”
“I did. Only now I wish you’d secretly purchased a single-story home.”
“No, you don’t. You love the view.”
“Okay, fine. Did you make breakfast?”
